


Innocence is not a Virtue

by MathConcepts



Category: The Tudors (TV)
Genre: Angst, Beheading, Character Death, F/M, Gen, Minor Character Death, Minor Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-26
Updated: 2020-07-01
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:41:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24923260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MathConcepts/pseuds/MathConcepts
Summary: Two days before Anne's execution is to occur, the King is learns of her innocence, and a coup that is of the most treasonous and vile nature. Though his affections for Anne may have cooled, he will not allow her to be executed so others may benefit. For better or worse, she will stay his queen.
Relationships: Anne Boleyn & Elizabeth I of England, Anne Boleyn & Thomas Cromwell, Anne Boleyn/Henry VIII of England, Elizabeth I of England & Henry VIII of England, Henry VIII of England & Mary I of England, Henry VIII of England/Jane Seymour, Margaret "Madge" Shelton/Henry VIII of England, Thomas Cromwell & Henry VIII of England
Comments: 13
Kudos: 104





	1. Chapter 1

His heart had been stone until the visit paid to Wolfhall. Her death was the path to his happiness and pleasure, happiness at seeing justice well served, and the pleasure he would have by taking Jane as his wife and placing her upon the throne, to await the heir she would bear him, the one _she_ could not.   
  
Pale and golden, Jane was not what Anne was, obedient where Anne was tenacious, shy where Anne was bold, sweet where Anne was vicious. Jane had not been raised to be a queen, a marriage to a Lord the highest her station could have hoped to grant her, but by virtue of her unassuming and pleasing nature, a good Queen she would be.   
  
Anne languished in the Tower now, awaiting execution two days hence. It was no more than she deserved, and she deserved much less, damn her. He had loved her, fought for her, and she had repaid him with a daughter who might very well not be his, and a string of lovers paraded under his very nose. He had wished to put her aside as nearly as he had saw Jane, thinking of nothing but her innocent beauty. Her purity had come as a breath of fresh air to a choking man, he had been a prisoner to the darkness of Anne for well nigh ten years, and was now only emerging from that prison, stretching his arms out to the sun. To Jane.   
  
  


How he ached for her innocence and sweetness! She was so willing and eager to please, she would surely be a woman who would be...  
  
...as so many of the others.  
  
The thought came suddenly and unbidden to him, of the other women, other mistresses before. Some golden-haired, some not, but all deferential, all so willing. So readily available to his whims.   
  


No. Jane would be different, he reasoned with himself. For he had found a woman worthy of his love and capable of bearing his heirs. A woman whom God had surely led him too, for how else cold such a virtuous woman be found?

  
If only he had known the truth! 

* * *

  
  
He had sent word in the morn to Jane, to tell of his wish to visit and dine with her and her family. He not indented to ride until noon, but the want for her was too great. He sent out for Wolfhall after breaking his fast, riding hard and with only three men. Once he had rode like this, full of burning intent and passion, only to be scorned. Jane would not scorn him, not now, nor ever.  
  
He had bid the servants to not raise an outcry when arrived, intending to present himself to Jane and her family unannounced. How her eyes would brighten in joy when she saw him!   
  


Bidding his men to wait, he went to seek out Jane. He brought no gifts, no gaudy shows of devotion. Jane was not one to expect such things though, there was no greed, no ambition in her heart. It was simply his presence that satisfied her, and brought her joy.   
  
The Seymours unknowingly awaited him in the courtyard, and he hastened there. She stood in the sun with her brother and father nearby, her hair crowned with light. Such angelic beauty, such grace! She appeared to be in deep conversation with her father, and he stopped among the shadowy pillars of the courtyard, intending to wait til' she had finished, that he might have her undivided attention. A soft breeze blew, rustling the tendrils of her hair and bringing their voices to him. Too enthralled in the vision of her, he hardly heard what was spoken, had he not heard himself addressed in their exchange. 

"Soon, everything will be secure. There will be nothing, and no one who will hinder the King taking you as his wife." The eldest Seymour spoke earnestly, reaching out to comfortingly clasp his daughter's hand. "There is nothing to worry for, Janey."   
  
Worried? Why should Jane worry? His love was apparent, his desire to crown her his Queen everything but announced. Jane was no simpleton despite her simpleness, she was not ignorant of his intentions. Did she doubt his love? His honor? What were her worries she had confided to her family, and yet not to him? Him who had singled himself out to serve her?

"Yes, father." Came the soft reply, demure and sweet, a balm immediately soothing his rousing temperament. Jane's brother stirred at her side, casting a look at her father before addressing Jane in tone more stern to his ears.   
  
"It was fortunate indeed that his eye fell on you at the waning of the Queen's grace. You must not forget that." Edward Seymour admonished. A silence, and then Jane's voice again, still sweet and demure, but now laced with confusion.   
  
"Waning? Brother, the Queen's crimes would have been discovered and punished, if not at this time, then another."  
  
"Perhaps." Edward Seymour's voice was light, but there was something other in it, a string of darkness. Then a silence that Henry fancied was Jane making sense of her brother's words, as did he. He liked not what he was hearing.   
  
He liked Edward's next words even less. "The queen's miscarriage was even more fortunate, and you may thank yourself for that." Anne had accused Jane of being the reason for the loss of their son, claiming her rage and grief at the sight of Jane on his lap. He had given no credence to her accusation, but to hear it validated from the mouth of her rival's brother sent a chill through him, even in the warmth of the day.   
  
"I had no wish to bring harm to the Queen, and I wish it was not so, brother." Jane said softly, pressing a hand to her chest, her eyes wide. If she was shocked by her brother's words, she kept herself well in check.   
  
"You are sweet." Edward said, his voice near a purr. "But if the babe had lived longer, or yet had been a son, any chance of you becoming Queen would been gone."   
  
"...But the Queen's crimes..." Jane began. 

"It is doubtful the King would have given any noticed to the rumors against her if she had borne him a son. The child had to die." A gasp from Jane, both hands clasping on her breast as her eyes darted between her father and brother.  
  
"...I...what? Edward..." she said, faltering. She was truly shocked now, her eyes wide in earnest. Then a whisper, as if she spoke of unlawful and heretical things, which might very well be the case, if what he gleaned from her brother's words was true. "..What did you do?"  
  
"Shh, Janey, Shh." it was her father now, whispering reassurances. "Do not worry. Simply do what you have to do, and all will be well." Edward nodded, bestowing a brotherly caress upon Jane's face.   
  
"You must cultivate a friendship with Cromwell," he instructed. "He will secure your position at the King's side."   
  
The Seymour patriarch spoke up again. "If not for him, it is doubtful that the Queen would have been found guilty. Remember this." Jane nodded, though understanding was not evident on her face. Her brother sighed, his tones clipped as he began again.   
  
"It is doubtless that the Queen was innocent of all charges, and by Cromwell only was she found guilty. You may be so to, if you are ever in a position to warrant the King's displeasure. So make Cromwell your friend, and you need not fear." Jane only nodded, as she always did, accepting this without question.  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  
  
Tight-lipped and sullen, he sunk back into the darkness. The shadows closed over his face, sealing him from the sun. He had come here seeking a lamb, and had fallen instead into a pit of vipers!  
  
 _...the child had to die..._  
  
 _...what did you do?..._  
  
 _...the Queen...innocent of all charges..._  
  
What could these words mean, but the vilest of intentions? Had Edward Seymour conspired to slay his child in the womb? This might be done through the use of poisons and tonics, and Edward had resided at court when Anne had miscarried. Miscarried a son. Lincare had said it looked to be a male child, though he cited many deformities upon the small form. It had only served to rouse his anger against Anne at the time, for how could he sire a deformed child? Yet now he had reason to think that the deformities may have been a product of poison, some bitter substance that had burnt the child in the womb.   
  
And Anne. He had not contemplated her innocence before, all too assured of her guilt. But now, but now...could she indeed be innocent? Edward Seymour had spoke with such surety of her innocence, and declared with such brazenness Cromwell's hand in her downfall. Henry himself had not lifted a hand in Anne's trial, but Cromwell had brought him the tidings he had wanted. That Anne was guilty. But she was! Declared guilty before god and a jury of her peers, found guilty of unforgivable crimes against her King.   
  
Unless...unless...had Cromwell become disenchanted with Anne, he was in the position to tear her down. As it was plain that he himself was disenchanted with the lady, would not the courts and Cromwell himself seek to follow his example, and rid him of Anne has he had made so plain that he wished? Could the Seymours have conspired with Cromwell, offering bribe or promises?   
  
His love for Anne _had_ waned under Jane's influence, and rumors of her infidelity had only served to strengthen his resolve to put her aside. He would spare no grief when she was gone, caring only for her who would be his wife.   
  
  
But now, what type of wife was this! A wretched girl, ignorant that her brother was a murderer and her father a schemer. Anne's father and brother had made no secret that they enjoyed the attention lavished upon them by the King, and openly flaunted it, pretending to no false pities, while Thomas Seymour humbled himself in the King's presence, and plotted to supplant the throne behind his back  
  


And now what? If he visited with Jane as he had intended, would she smile in his presence, now that it was known to her that her place at his side was paid for with the blood of his child?   
  
He remembered Anne as she was after her miscarriage, with her hands full of blood, her face twisted in grief, and his heart panged with sudden sorrow, a sudden thawing of the frost that had long enclosed it.  
  
Was she truly innocent? A woman of her station could not very well acquit herself with many in private, being attended hand and foot by many maids. A man had confessed to being her lover, but many things would a man confess to under duress.   
  
And she had loved him. He remembered once how he saw in her eyes what he had saw in Jane's, simple love and adoration. She had loved him still, she had said, pleading with him as she held their child in her arms. She would not have taken to the bed of another if she loved him as she claimed!   
  
But yet...did he still love her? His feelings he had not examined, until this moment, keeping them solely for Jane, but there was darkness in his heart that was the memory of her hair, the turn of her lips, the curve of her neck.   
  
A part of him was tempted to forget what her had heard, and venture forth to take Jane his arms. But the suspicions the words of the Seymours had raised were too great. They were but schemers, traitors and plotters, dancing their sister before him as a cheap whore to tempt him, while they spirited his child from the belly of his wife. He would leave, and see his _wife._ He may now not bear love for Anne, but he would not put her aside at the whim of the Seymours, or Cromwell, or any other man that wished to further their own interests. He had ordered the investigation into the Queen when chance had allowed him to do so, he had wished to be rid of her, he admitted to the privacy of his heart, but his heart had still stung when the allegations against her had been voiced. He had felt betrayal's lance, the fury of a spurned lover.   
  
He felt worse now. He believed Jane would never scorn him, and yet she had. She was not what she had seemed, no sweet virtuous maiden, but a whore placed in his path to tempt him to sin, to the murder of an innocent woman. Oh yes, Anne's execution was now not to happen. He would not suffer her to die for the sake of the Seymours' want for a few titles. He would ride to the Tower and free his _wife,_ and offer her comfort for the deaths of her brother and the men accused beside her. He could not restore her brother to her, but her father would have his titles once again, and the Seymours would pay for their crimes. 


	2. Chapter 2

Her ladies fell into curtsies after her, eyes wide, and their faces pale. Beyond _his_ shoulder Master Kingston stood placidly, and Anne wished to meet his eye. Alas, she could not from her current vantage point, a deep curtsy that left her no way to do so.   
  
  
"Your Majesty." Privately she found it was troublesome that he had come, if he wished to remit her to a nunnery, she would not have contested the order given by the mouth of another. But she knew the man as well as most, he could be a man of the most cruel disposition at times, and so must needs to consign her himself.   
  


"Madame," he began, "the charges against you have been found to be false, and your virtue remains uncontested. You are free to leave this Tower and return to Court."  
  
Her ladies surged to her as she crumpled, but it was the King's hands that caught hers and drew her up. "My Queen." There was no affection she could discern in his eyes, but his voice was amiable. Small mercy as it was. But she had recovered now, and spoke in as a stately fashion as her shaken disposition could manage, her hands clasped before her, and her head high. She would not allow relief to color her voice, innocent though she was, it would be unseemly to show undue emotion.  
  
"I am glad to hear of my innocence, your Majesty."   
  


"The charges against you were of a most vile nature, fabricated to cast you in doubt. I thank God the truth was revealed to me in time."   
  


"Fabricated? How so?" Her thoughts had gone first to the faith, the Bishops she entreated Crammer to plead for her. However unlikely, it seemed they had indeed secured her life. But now he spoke of fabrications. He did not reply at once, and she questioned him with a tilt of her head before she could stay herself. But when he spoke, she could understand his reluctance, though it did not keep her from taking pleasure in his words.   
  
  
"Cromwell is at fault in this, and I have reason to believe the courts acted in ignoble interests." the next words were slow to come, but they were the sweetest balm to Anne's harried soul when they did. "The Seymours were found to have plotted against the throne." But of course. Later she would ponder how the King's new darlings came to be accused of treason from his own mouth, but for now she basked in the warmth of vindication. Oh, she had known the doe-eyed little whore and her family were up to no good, and had jealously watched their rise from her increasingly precarious position while the man she called husband had dined and whored with them.  
  
"That is grave news indeed, your Majesty." she said. He looked at her shrewdly, his eyes hard, and she subsided, cold creeping up her spine. In her elation, perhaps she had forgotten herself. She was still in the Tower, still subject to the questionable and ever-shifting whims of her King. Her brother lay dead in a grave somewhere, a testament to her husband's ruthlessness, and a thing she could not yet bear to think of. He lived still in her mind, til she could muster the courage to relinquish him to death. 

"Is it? Graver still is what they dared to do for the sake of their ambition." The king's face contorted with a flash of sorrow, which melded so quickly to anger she was inclined to take a step back. "Edward Seymour brought about the death of our child." Her mouth opened against the insanity of this statement, though no words came, but the King took the gesture as a question. "I suspect poison was used."   
  
Her hands fell to her bodice as she sunk down on her bare bed. It was a true shock, this. Her child. The son that might have been, might have served to keep her from being here, in this Tower. Her miscarriage, the fatal blow she had thought to be rage at the fickleness of her husband had been of a more substantial nature, if Henry was to believed. And why should she not believe him? She knew what the Seymours were, had known before Henry himself. Oh, her son! Her son!   
  
It was not just for the babe that she started to weep, the turmoil of the weeks before descended on her shoulders. But it was not solely grief, but anger. To lose a son, brother, and almost a life in so short a time! And all for the machinations of a scheming little wanton!

Though the blame was not solely to be laid at Jane and her family's feet. Henry she accused in the innermost chambers of her mind, it was not wise to air her ire at him in such a feeble position as hers.   
  
The ladies swarmed about her, offering cloths and soft clucking noises, but it was to Henry that she turned her eyes, willing him to see reflected there any lingering affection he might possess.   
  
  
"My boy," she croaked. "Henry, they must pay." His touch, soft on her cheek as he wiped away lingering tears, was unfamiliar after all this time and stung as well as a blow would.   
  
"And so they shall." he vowed. "It was my son they killed."   
  
"Our son." She murmured faintly, and he acquiesced with a nod, taking a proffered cloth from on of the ladies, and almost tenderly drying her tears. She laced her hand through his own, a learned gesture rather than an intended one. Any tenderness she was starved for, and grasped easily at, but yet she could not forget the hand she held had been the one to sign the order that took her brother's life, and had signed her's as well, before this marvelous turn of fate.   
  
She would not welcome his affections so readily, not now, perhaps not ever again. It would be necessary to play the dutiful wife for a time, yes, but never again would she be blind to what this man was. Lover, husband, king, _murderer._ Fickle, selfish, so easy to cast those he professed to love aside.   
  


* * *

  
  
  
He drew her to her feet, offering his arm. Her's slid into his, and her weight came to rest at his side, familiar and yet not. He took incentive to study her profile, her lips, curve of her jaw, the neck he so adored, exposed in the way her hair was swept back, and wondered what he he had thought to rid himself of. She was beautiful here, pale and without jewels, alluring in the simplicity of it. There was yet no love in his heart, but there was want, the kindling of stronger emotions. Perhaps he would come to love her again, no, he must needs to.   
  
It was a sign from God that he discovered the Seymour's evil, a sign that bid him to remain in the union between him and Anne. And what could be done against the wish of God? Truly he was grateful, for Anne would have been dead on this day, and he would have wed to a sinner, and welcomed them into his court.   
  
"Come." he said to his wife, and she offered him a graceful nod as he led her from her cell. Her bearing was tremulous, but she walked true, graciously bidding farewell to Master Kingston as they took to the barge.   
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
She waited til' the barge glided from the confines of her prison to address the King.  
  
"Your Majesty, I should like to see the Princess when we return." He looked at her, unreadable for a moment. The title _princess_ had been a deliberate choice, she would not forget either the news of annulment Henry had sought, and the humiliation she suffered to imagine her child as Lady Mary was.   
  
"And you shall." he said simply.  
  
She forced herself to smile thinly, with a whispered, "Thank you, your Majesty." She would see to her daughter first, and then look to _other_ , certain matters.   
  
  


* * *

Cromwell was not a happy man. The King had returned in a high fury from Wolfhall the day before, and called to convene the courts, the result of which ended in the exoneration of the disgraced Queen. The Seymours had been found guilty of the highest treason, and had been summoned before the court to face the King's wrath, though they did not know so. So much had been torn from his grasp in so short a time that he was left reeling with the sudden shift of fortune. True, he had known of the Seymour's...plotting, but he had put his faith that they would remain wise about it. But to have poisoned the King's child! Were they mad?  
  
He was in high temper himself, but kept enough of his wits about him. The King's anger had not yet turned against him, something that left him perplexed and uneasy. He had worked most stolidly to drag the Queen down, and so he had expected to be in the Tower the moment he had worked out the meaning of the King's evil mood concerning the Seymours. But he was not.   
  
  
But so much for the King. The Queen was returning, and if she returned under the King's good favor, his days were certainly limited. She was not a forgiving, nor forgetful woman, and would be less inclined to overlook his part in her sentencing than the King himself.

The Seymour girl could be controlled, which made her an attractive prospect as Queen. Anne could not be. But his ambitions were of no account now, there was nothing for him to do but await the return of the King, and whatever fate might befall him. 


	3. Chapter 3

  
  
  
  
"Mama, Mama!" the child screamed, abandoning all pretense of poise to fling herself in her mother's waiting arms. Anne scooped up the girl, crushing her to her lavender bodice.   
  
"Elizabeth, Elizabeth." She whispered, murmuring intelligibly into her daughter's hair. 

"They said you were going to die." The little girl said bluntly, pulling back to stare her in the face. " They said you got your head chopped off..." here she paused, struggling with the next words before forcing them out with a red little face, her voice lowering to a whisper. "...they said I was a _bastard._ " Silence fell as Anne spun on Elizabeth's household, or the remnants thereof, her eyes darting over the handful of ladies and grooms that remained. Bastards, all of _them,_ not her child.   
  


"Lady Bryan," she said sternly, "You allowed her to hear such things?" Lady Bryan looked discomfited.   
  
"Your Majesty, it was never my intention that Princess should hear such things. If..."   


"..Enough." Anne took Elizabeth on her hip, letting the child tuck her head under hers. "Dismiss what remains of the Princess' household, and engage those who will not let slander to come an innocent child's ears."   
  


"Yes, your Majesty," Lady Bryan replied, looking rather faint, and Anne swept away with Elizabeth. She had returned to find Elizabeth's household lacking and her rooms ransacked, and her child, downcast and somber. Henry had slunk off, perhaps to some whore, perhaps not, leaving her alone with Elizabeth. Anne was part grateful, part annoyed. Could he not come to also comfort his child? But it was little matter. Having very nearly lost Elizabeth her position, she must reaffirm her position, and undo the damage the King had caused. Had he truly believed Elizabeth was not his child? Believed it to the point that he would so readily strip her of her comforts and attendants?   
  
Very well, then. She would see to it that there would be no doubt in his, nor _anyone's_ mind, as to whose child Elizabeth was. As for herself...  
  
Certain changes would have to be made in the wake of her brush with death, a second chance would not come if she ever lost the King's favor to such a degree again. She would have to proceed with delicacy and tact, offering the King platitudes and playing to his better nature.   
  
All such resolves broke apart when she came to her own quarters. She entered, Elizabeth still on her hip, and looked about in dismay. "Where are my things?" The rooms had nearly been stripped bare, next to nothing remained of the fashion in which she had configured them. Her ladies, caught by surprise by her unorthodox entrance, though they were not shocked, (oh how the rumors spread so quickly!) murmured greetings and dropped curtsies, leaving their work unattended. It did not fail to escape Anne's notice that they had been attempting to restore her belongings throughout the room.  
  
"Where are my things?" Anne said again, clutching Elizabeth to her even tighter, but even as she spoke, she noticed more things amiss. "And where are my ladies? Lady Shelton and Seville?" 

"Your Majesty," one girl said softly, not quite meeting her eyes, "Lady Shelton and Seville have been dismissed, by order of the King."  
  
 _Henry_ , damn him! She let Elizabeth slip down and took the child's little hand, frowning as she looked between her ladies.   
  
"Who has taken their place?" the girl said nothing, embarrassed as she must already be, but Anne had already found the unfamiliar faces in her retinue.   
  


"Ladies...Seymour, I presume." Anne said icily.   
  
  
One of them raised their head and looked her straight in the eye. _Impertinent bitch._ "Lady Dorothy and Elizabeth Seymour. Pardon the state of the room, your Majesty, but we had not expected you to return."  
  
Anne's other ladies gasped, and Elizabeth grabbed at her skirt, her small shoulders heaving. It was that, the distress of her daughter, that enraged Anne so. "Continue your duties." she said to her ladies, and leveled a glare at the Seymour girls. "You, bring a chair for the _Princess_." she ordered the one who had spoken first, "And _you_ , bring me paper and a quill." 

They had no choice but to obey, and Anne bid the distraught Elizabeth to sit in the chair when it was brought, while she remained standing, too agitated to sit, as she composed and wrote a hasty letter. She gave it to Lady Gainsford when it was done, and told her to see that it found its way to the King immediately.   
  
  
Henry, Henry, Henry. What he had done, he would now undo. 

* * *

  
  
It was with some amount of trepidation that he took the letter. What would she say? She had said little, and had said nothing when she took her leave to see their daughter. But this, this letter, delivered so soon after her reunion with Elizabeth must be of importance. He stared a moment at the curving penmanship, and broke the seal, quickly reading the short contents of the letter.   
  
He was calling for the sentries a moment later, and they swept down in a group to the Queen's apartments.   
  
  


* * *

  
  
Once more set upon by the unexpected arrival of a royal, Anne's poor ladies dropped into deep curtsies, superstitiously glancing between the King and Queen. "My Queen." Henry greeted Anne, who bowed gracefully from where she was bending over Elizabeth, gently ministering to the child. The scene brought a frown to his lips. "Elizabeth, is something wrong, my child?"   
  
"They said Mama wasn't to come back." the little girl whimpered, clinging to Anne's hand. Anne had relayed as much in the letter, but to hear it from the child's lips was another.   
  
The letter sent by Anne requested the removal of Jane's sister's from her household that very day, citing concerns for her safety and the wish to not abide with the kin of a murderer, but most importantly was Anne's concern for the distress Elizabeth had been caused. It was that which had struck such a chord in him, Anne loved their daughter, no matter her personal failings. To his knowledge, not an ill thing she had spoken about him to Elizabeth, despite the ill will he had borne Anne. How different that was from Catherine, who sought to turn Mary against him!   
  


How could he have thought to deprive his daughter of such a mother?   
  
"Who said such a thing?" he asked, and Elizabeth looked towards Jane's sisters. He had given them positions to pave the way for Jane's comfort, thinking to provide her with companionship and family. Now, there was no further use for them, with Jane's true nature revealed, she would never take up a place a Queen.  
  
He had assumed Anne would put them out, the woman was vitriolic when scorned, but she instead had requested his intervention, which unsettled him. Did she think he still loved Jane, that she feared dismissing them would incur his wrath?   
  
"Remove them." he ordered his sentries.   
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  
Anne watched the Seymour women's faces collapse in horror at the King's order, and she hid her smile in Elizabeth's hair. Oh, she could have sent them away, but this, this was sweeter. She could very well imagine that excitement the felt when assigned their positions, positions that should have never been given to women such as them.   
  
  
They had been favored by the King, and for the King himself to revoke that favor! What must they be feeling, but misery?   
  
  
"Your Majesty," one of them spoke, and Anne looked up sharply. But Henry waved a hand.   
  
  
"Silence. You are dismissed from the Queen's household, and from this court." A pause, and then the blow, "You will leave at once, and never return."   
  


One of them looked faint, and both were escorted from the room by the King's guards, speechless with shock. Had they thought their good fortune would extend beyond Anne's return? Were they as stupid as to pay no credence to the rumors? Had they been as foolish as to think their little whore of a sister would still take Anne's place? The Seymour's treason was not a known thing, yet, but fortune was shifting back to Anne's favor. And her favor had no place for the Seymours.   
  
  
She watched the women disappear, and found that the weight on her shoulders was lighter, and that her breath came easier. True, Jane was still an object of worry, but the dismissal of her sisters would tear away some of the illusion of influence she presumed she had. The Seymours would be tried for treason, Henry could not, would not allow the murder of his child to go unpunished, _unavenged,_ but Anne knew she would not sleep easy til' his little whore was torn down.   
  


Or dead. 


End file.
